


he looks right through me

by thegirl



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles POV, Bittersweet Ending, Hades - Freeform, M/M, Oneshot, Posthumous Forgetfulness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl/pseuds/thegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Achilles has been waiting a short eternity when Patroclus finally arrives. After Patroclus' arrival, he spends all eternity watching and wishing but never getting, and he knows this is his punishment. This cannot be anything but a punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he looks right through me

**Author's Note:**

> For Mariam and the horrifically small Song of Achilles fandom - we will grow.

Achilles has been waiting for a short eternity when Patroclus finally arrives, and he is so much better than the shade he has become in Achilles’ memories, even though he is now a shade, Achilles fancies he can still see a flush in his lover’s cheeks, maybe if he listens hard enough there will be a heartbeat battling beneath Patroclus’ - his Patroclus - ribcage, thrumming out Achilles’ own name.

For a moment, after stepping on the shore that only the dead can touch, strong, brown legs wobbling slightly, Patroclus doesn’t see him. He looks confused, lost and scared, and Achilles knows he has a right to do so, because this is Hades and there is no light here, which makes up the beauty of Patroclus’ soul.

Then - then Patroclus sees him, and Achilles feels himself become the moon, and the attention of the wandering dead who never approach shifts from himself to Patroclus, who has just become the sun in this place of darkness and silence.

Patroclus’ eyes shine copper, and his lips stretch back, and oh, he still has a chip on his canine and a mole by his mouth and his hair is a shining ebony, blue, black and an abundance of freckles almost as mahogany as the colour of his skin are peppered over his nose and cheeks, and for one, blissful moment that Achilles could and would and will spend an eternal lifetime remembering, Patroclus sees him and makes toward him, as Achilles does toward Patroclus, and they reach for each other’s hands-

And then, it is over.

(-the sun and the moon’s orbits never cross, and all Achilles had just experienced was the eclipse, the pretence of acknowledgement or of being one whole being for even a sliver of a second-)

Patroclus’ glowing eyes gloss over, and suddenly, his eyes are still looking at Achilles’ face but he is not seeing anymore, his freckles are bleaching from his skin and the muscle drops away from his frame, his shoulders hunch a little, like there is no point in wasting effort in standing straight ( _Posture! Posture shows the men what kind of man you are!_ Chiron’s age old teachings turning to smoke memories), his arm, which had just seconds before been straining for Achilles’ own, drops to his side quite suddenly, for suddenly the spirit realises it doesn’t know what it is reaching for, and now, unlike seconds before, there is no flush anywhere on his body, just a deathly pallor that makes even the palest parts of Achilles look pink and rosy.

Achilles is frozen.

He stands, arm still outstretched but he daren’t take another step, the transformation that had just occurred before him making his godly blood run cold (oh, that must be the cause of this, _he does not deserve you,_ the slurs coming from his mother’s divine lips, and he remembers the shaking of her head and the sharpness of her eyes, and she must have known, she must of, _he is a mortal and you do not have an eternity,_ her warnings ignored for his all important, all encompassing war), before he shudders and moves to a neutral position.

Perhaps, the worst thing about being dead is the inability to cry, because right now he doesn’t know what else to do. He had heard tales, of course, about mortals forgetting themselves once they crossed the River Styx, but he had never dreamed that it could happen to him and Patroclus, for, the spirits around him, they-

His blood runs cold as he realises he hasn’t spoken to any of them at all, so focused and desperate for Patroclus (he remembers, bitterly, what he had been wishing for in his eternity, eyes forever locked on Charon’s ferry that never, ever contained Patroclus, praying to gods that could either not hear him or no longer cared - _return him to me, return him to me, please, mighty gods, return him to me)_ that he had neglected to think of anything else, anything at all (even the flame haired boy who called himself a man who sat by his side for a while and told gruesome tales of what he deemed victories, he hadn’t even given him a first look, except when the boy had spat after telling all his bloody, broken tales _I’m glad I did not give him peace_ and then, Achilles had willed him into Tartarus, but he had no power here and the boy walked away and for the slightest, briefest of moments, Achilles’ longing turned to hate) and now, and now, Patroclus was-

“Patroclus?” he asks, quietly, the most humbly he had ever spoken, those who had known him in life would’ve been shocked, unknowing of how much waiting had changed him.

The spirit is still smiling, blankly and openly like a book as it replies kindly, as if it were an old, washer woman who was hard of hearing: “Who?”

Achilles resigns himself to an eternity of watching and following, and he thinks of his pride and honour and determination and all the souls on these fields with their blood on his hands, and knows that this is his punishment.

The shade that once had been Patroclus walks away, weaving through the trees planted by the Lady Persephone, and as always, Achilles follows, and he is still the moon, and Patroclus remains the sun, and to this day, they are, as they have always been, one. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked, please review/kudos cause that would be brilliant and I'd love some comments, and if you really, really liked, bookmark away! :)


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